Disclaimer: I only own Scarlett and all her peoples, but everyone else belongs to the dudes and dudettes at Disney.
The Debt To Be Repaid
Prologue
Scarlett Sampson pushed herself to the surface of the water, gasping for breath. Her arms flailed about wildly, desperate as she was to find something to keep her afloat. She clung tightly to the belt around her waist with one hand, for it held her pistol and longsword. She coughed and spluttered as the waves pushed her under again, but she was bound and determined to swim back to one of the ships in her father's fleet.
Victor Sampson was a powerful pirate in this part of the Caribbean, and he commanded a large fleet, with his fourteen-year-old daughter as honorary first mate on his flagship, the Chelsea. Few other buccaneers dared to challenge his might, save one: Captain Hector Barbossa.
Now, it just so happens that Victor owed a considerable amount of money to his old friend Hector, as the elder pirate had given Victor a portion of a year's plunder to buy a ship of his own and generally get started in a line of piratical employ. That was a long while ago, when there was a Mrs. Sampson, Scarlett's mother. Chelsea Sampson had died six years ago, but Barbossa had not forgotten the debt to be repaid. Especially because he had accumulated a few of his own.
And now the two captains had met up once more, and Barbossa wanted what was due him. Victor had open fired on his annoyingly persistent friend, convincing himself that it was the only option open to him. Naturally Barbossa had returned fire, and the Black Pearl sank the Chelsea at a frighteningly fast rate. Then she went on to terrorize the rest of the Sampson fleet.
And that is how Scarlett found herself in her current position, clinging to a barrel of oranges that had happened to float past her. She coughed some more and watched her new hat drift away, until it was swallowed up by the massive waves that also threatened to separate her from her life support. She pressed her body against it and shut her eyes tight, attempting in vain to keep the stinging sea water out of them. "Help!" she called, small English voice choked with water and fear. "Help, please!"
She watched for another of her father's ships, the Cheshire or the Midnight, perhaps. Even the New World would suffice. But she hoped the most for the Cheshire, as the Cheshire carried Charles, the love of her life. Though he was fifteen years older than she, he had sincerely promised to marry her one day.
But there was no sign of the Cheshire or the Midnight, or even the New World. There was only the menacing silhouette of the Black Pearl, the accursed galleon that had managed to wipe out most of her father's fleet. She had thought the Chelsea would have put up more of a fight, just as her mother had, but the Pearl was too strong, just as the infection had been. She realized now, with some sadness, that neither of the Chelseas had ever really stood a chance.
She also realized, as the Pearl moved swiftly through the waves toward her small form, she didn't stand a chance, either.
The blood is the life, Sikerra.